Sam and the Martian
by Doug2
Summary: Leaper Sam Beckett helps Uncle Martin head home to Mars.


Sam and The Martian 

DISCLAIMER As usual, all of these characters except Sam, Al, Gushie and Ziggy are mine.

Martin, O'Hara, Tim O'Hara and Mrs. Brown belong to Jack Chertov Productions.

Flashes of blue light penetrated the darkness in Sam's mind as Sam's next leap began.

Blue light gave way to the brightness of some ceiling fixtures and the dark heads that bobbed above him. Sam closed his eyes and rubbed them.

"Tim, are you all right?" asked a pretty girl in a blue dress and fluffed-up hairdo.

Sam rolled over on his side, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Yea, I think I'm all right," said Sam rubbing his head.

"Thanks." he acknowledged another man who helped him to his feet.

"Poor Tim." the same woman purred straightening his hair.

"You gave us a fright there, young man. You were in the middle of a golf story and then you keeled over. So how did you sink that putt?" he asked.

"Putt? I'm sorry. I forgot. Excuse me, please." said Sam wandering away from the water cooler. He was definitely in some kind of newspaper office in the sixties. All of the men wore white shirts and dark ties. A desk calendar indicated June 4, 1968, but all the monthly calendars showed August 1968. In a mirror he saw the image of a young man about thirty with short-cropped hair and a very worried expression on his face. Of course the worried look was his own.

"Hey, handsome." said the young girl who Sam first saw, "If you're looking for your desk,

it's over there in the corner. Hit your head too hard, sweetie?" she said smiling cutely at him.

"Yea, I guess. Thanks. Um. Thanks." Sam said.

"Gloria. Don't tell me you forgotten my name all ready?" she huffed at him.

"Oh no, Gloria. I'm just still dizzy from my fall!" said Sam.

"Fall? You tripped over your own two feet! Will I'll get you something for that head, sugar lips." Gloria said kissing him and walking off.

"Sugar lips?' thought Sam.

Looking over Tim O'Hara's desk I could tell neatness was not one of his virtues, but he did cast some spell over Gloria. Even though he executed a pratfall right in front of her, she still doesn't see him as a klutz. I often felt that way in front of girls at high school. However, when I found...darn it...I couldn't remember my first love's name. Jeepers, this Swiss cheesed memory has its down side. Anyway, I do remember she was the first girl I was really comfortable with and didn't get all clumsy and awkward around.

"O'Hara!" came a shout through my daydreaming.

"That's me!" Sam shouted out loud.

"Yea, that right, buddy boy." said the man sitting next to me. "Hope you didn't screw up again."

"Let's hope not!" Sam replied in agreement.

"O'Hara!" called out again as I found the door of the City Editor, Harold Roberts. This was most likely his boss and he didn't sound like he was in a good mood.

"Yes, Mr. Roberts." Sam said walking in the door.

"O'Hara, the Mayor's going to have a news conference at two. Be there and get it right this time!" said Mr. Roberts.

"I'll be there promptly at two." Sam said.

"That'll be a first. And get it right this time or it's your JOB! Now get to it!" he shouted.

"Yes sir. Thank you. I won't let you down. Good-bye." Sam said.

Writing had never been my specialty. I was better at talking my way through things to other people. Or put me at a blackboard and I could explain anything that required facts and figures from deriving the formula of a quadratic equation to explaining the principles of quantum mechanics. Math had always been my strong point. I was really rotten when it came to literary accomplishments.

Plop. A cold cloth was dropped on my head as Gloria walked by giving me a quick kiss. She waved and headed back to her desk. I just gave her a half wave and went back to my desk.

"Old man Roberts has guts sending you to City Hall after you fell all over him trying to ask him questions last month. The mayor is still limping from falling down the steps. That was so funny. Then he falls down again while you try to help him back up! That'll be one hell of an assignment." he chuckled and then laughed out load.

"OH BOY!"

Main Theme

Walking into the tall edifice of the Los Angeles City Hall was impressive. At the time, it was still the tallest building in the city. Besides appearing in many televsion shows, it had also been destroyed in several disaster, monster and alien movies I had seen growing up. I was shown into the press room and had several minutes before the press conference. Behind me a hydraulic sound told me that the Imaging Chamber door had opened.

"Hello, Sam. I see you're playing Clark Kent tonight. Or rather today. It's three o'clock in the morning back here at the project," said Al, Sam's best friend and the QL project observer.

"Oh hi, Al. Boy is it good to see you. I have to report on this press conference or Tim O'Hara has had it at his paper. Can you help me out?" asked Sam.

Puffing on his cigar, Al replied, "No problem. Ziggy, pull up the morgue files on the Mayor of Los Angeles' press conference on August 18, 1968. Sam, I will get you Tim's original column and will dictate it to you myself. And don't worry about Tim's job. It seems he was constantly threatened, but never lost it. I had a Lt. Commander like that who constantly threatened every ensign like me with being busted even though we all did excellent work. In the end he got busted, Al chuckled. after getting caught sleeping with the Captain's daughter. Served him right, though that little Emily was so..so..anyway."

"So what have you got for me on this leap?" asked Sam.

Pushing several buttons on his hank link, Al said, "You know your name and the date. You've worked for the Los Angeles Chronicle for ten years. You live with your Uncle in a rooming house over a garage. That sounds cozy. You're unmarried, but you're very popular with the ladies. Doesn't look like anything goes too wrong. You get married in 1972 to a Veronica Clawson. That doesn't help any. Tonight you take off for a few days vacation. There is a short investigation because your Uncle..Wait a minute..Your Uncle disappears and never returns. Ziggy says there's a 62 chance that you're here to make sure he doesn't disappear."

"Those are very high odds." I said.

"That's the best I can give you. There's no report on how he disappeared. Tim O'Hara just came back without him," said Al.

"You mean he may have killed him? No, that wouldn't be right. If Tim killed him, my being here would have already prevented it and he might try again later. It must have either been murdered or an accident or something else." said Sam. "Check other sources and run cross verifications with other databases. Maybe he disappeared and resurfaces as someone else."

"All right, Sam. I'll have Ziggy check it out," said Al.

Much later Sam was back in Mr. Roberts' office going over his story.

"Not bad. You're starting to think like I do. I won't even have to edit this story," said Mr. Roberts.

"You already have, or rather you once did." said Al.

"That can go straight into tomorrow's edition. Good job, O'Hara." he said dismissing him.

"Thank you, Mr. Roberts. Good night." said Sam as he and Al went back onto the office floor.

Mr. Roberts just went back to shuffling papers on his desk.

"I'd like to give him a piece of my mind. That was on good job of reporting there. Tim's

a fine writer, but guys like that just live off of others work, like that Lt. Commander I was telling you about. Anyway, Sam. You can head home. I'll get the directions," said Al punching in a request on his hand link.

Parking in the driveway, a pretty middle-aged blond called to me from her doorway.

"Oh, Tim." she yelled.

"That would be Mrs. Lorelei Brown, the landlady. Widowed. Served in World War II, ex-Navy

WAVES." said Al.

"Mrs. Brown." said Sam smiling. "Good evening!"

"Oh, Tim, here's some fudge brownies. Take them right up to Martin. I haven't seen him most of the week. You must get him out of the apartment. He needs all those vitamins that the sun gives you. A, B, C, D or whatever. Anyway, have him stop down. I just want to chat. Off you go. Go-go-go!" she said.

"Thank you Mrs. Brown. I will tell my Uncle. Good night." Sam said.

"Quite the mother hen type." said Al. "My oldest daughter is like that. When she was ten, she'd be watching out for and corralling all of her sisters. Now she has two of her own," said Al.

"Al, you're a grandfather?" asked Sam walking up the steps to the loft apartment.

"Yea, three times over. My daughter, Trudy had another one last month. Geez, how time flies."

said Al "I'll meet you upstairs."

Sam walked up the stairs to a small apartment with a living area, small kitchen and bedroom on the sun porch. Inside he found Tim's Uncle Martin packing some strange items. There were gadgets that Sam couldn't even guess at, papers with strange writing on them and what appeared to be a silver spacesuit. Al appeared beside him.

"Ah, Tim. I'm glad your home. We have to get my ship fully packed under cover of darkness.

Um, I'm going to miss these touches of home. Lorelei's fudge brownies will be near the top.

We don't indulge in sweet things like this on Mars. But that won't stop me from replicating them from time to time." said his Uncle taking the plate of brownies and depositing in one of his bags.

"Mars? Mars? Oh, yes, of course, Mars!" said Sam trying to not sound stupid, but he really didn't know what this guy was talking about.

His Uncle turned around, eyed him suspiciously and placed his hands next to his head.

"You're not my nephew! BECKETT, SAM BECKETT?" said Martin.

"What do you mean, uh, Uncle Martin?" said Sam.

"Whoa, Sam, what's going on here?" said Al falling back.

"You're from the future. A project called Quantum Leap. You replace others using their image to hide your presence. You're here to investigate my disappearance." said Martin.

"Yes, that's about right," said Sam reluctantly.

"Sam, you're breaking our number one rule," said Al.

"He already knows!" said Sam looking disgust directly at him.

Still reading Sam's mind, "And you speaking to a neurological hologram of a gentleman named "Al." said Martin.

"Yipes. Sam, I..a.." said Al stammering.

"Yea, that's correct. AND I take it your not from this world." said Sam.

"Yes. I crash-landed here four years ago and Tim kindly took me in while I repaired my ship.

My disappearance is hopefully due to my going home the day after tomorrow. So as you can see, everything is under control and you can go back to the time sphere you came from. I would like to have my nephew back now, if you please." said Martin slightly irritated.

"It's not that easy. I can only go if I complete whatever task it is that brought me here. Originally we thought it was to save you. Al, please have Ziggy run some more scenarios. We have to find the reason," said Sam.

"OK Sam." replied Al as he punched more figures into his hand link. "You got that Ziggy?"

"Well, if you must stay. Help me out here. I don't want to seem ungracious, but I can't share my little secret with too many people," said Martin.

"Sure. What can I do?" Sam asked.

"Please fix some dinner, I'm starved." said Martin.

"Sure." Sam said going into the small kitchen.

In the kitchen, Al looked nervous.

"OK Al, what's wrong?" said Sam getting out some chicken to fry.

"We've seen some weird things you and me, but extra-terrestrials is a new one," said Al.

"What about those lights I saw in the sky? That was a UFO," said Sam.

"That's how you interpretive it. Ziggy had no record of actual authoritative information on

that. And I don't believe in men from Mars either." said Al.

"OK. Then what do you have on Martin O'Hara?" asked Sam.

Al took another puff on his cigar and started punching his hand link. "Let's see. He lived here

for four years. He had been in some police reports, but wasn't charged with anything. He disappears day after tomorrow. Nothing more on his background. That's it." Yelling at the ceiling. "Come on Ziggy, with all those tetra-quads of data, you have to have something!"

"I'm sorry Admiral Calavici. That is all of the data on Martin O'Hara. He came from nowhere and returned to nowhere," said Ziggy. She actually seemed to have irony in her voice.

"That's it, Sam. He's an unknown, a mystery. You might as well go along with what he says."

said Al reluctantly.

"Thanks, Al." said Sam breading his chicken.

"Admiral."

"Yes, Ziggy." said Al.

"After running the limited amount of data, I have computed that there is a 89 probably that

Dr. Beckett is to assist Martin O'Hara in his journey." said Ziggy.

"You mean help the man from Mars?" said Al gesturing wildly with his cigar.

"If that is his final destination," said Ziggy.

"OH BOY!" said Al.

"Would you and that hologram kindly keep your voices down? I am doing some delicate calculations in here. I don't want to run into Phobos," said Martin.

"Sure, Uncle Martin." said Sam.

"PHOBOS?" asked Al.

"One of the two Martian Moons." said Sam.

"OH! OF COURSE! Sam, I've had enough. I will see you later," said Al punching his hand link and walking out into a bright rectangle of light.

"By, Al" said Sam finishing dinner.

"This is really quite good. Nothing like Tim prepares. We're a couple of old bachelors here."

said Martin.

"I learned to cook this back on the farm I grew up on in Indiana. It was my Dad's favorite."

said Sam. "So what is Mars like? It's people and such?"

"Oh, I shouldn't tell you too much. We Martians cherish our privacy. You know how much trouble it is just hiding from your prying cameras and space probes? Martians are...let's see...Martians are less emotional, use more of their brain and don't follow so many of the silly little things that worry you to death. Really! Death will come, when it comes and there's no need to bring it on any sooner. I really haven't even talked that much in specifics to Tim. Like I said, we like our privacy." said Martin.

"It certainly shows an advanced culture to travel between the planets so easily and undetected," said Sam.

"Thank you." said Martin.

"So what's next?" I asked.

"Tonight we pack my ship, tomorrow night we drive out into the desert and at 2 AM I head for home," said Martin. The last word "home" sounded much more like a dream than a place.

"That's great. I wish I could go home," said Sam.

"Well, Sam. I wish I could help you, but I'm just a little old paleontologist that specializes in the planet Earth. Most of my kind really isn't interested in your world. I find Earth the most fascinating ancient culture. Compared to mine of course." said Martin.

The Martian named Martin was somewhat conceited, but compared to him we were all children. I

helped him carry many strange things down to the garage. Inside was a "SPACESHIP" that was smaller than a sports car.

"You fly between planets in that?" I asked with surprise.

"Yes, I am sorry to say I had to live with one of the larger models. But I can take home a lot more souvenirs." said Martin happily.

"I meant small. How does it work? No fuel I can see. No attitude adjusters, no..." I said.

"Please, please. I'm not going to start a class on first grade Martian mechanics. If you must know, it uses the magnetic flux of the earth's magnetic field. Now calm down that scientific brain of yours and had me those notebooks," said the Martian a little irritated.

The next night, I backed the car and trailer up to the garage. The Martian stood there in his silver spacesuit wearing a coat over it.

"How do we lift it onto the..." I asked.

"Allow me." said Martin. He pointed his finger at the ship and it lifted and floated over to the trailer. Then the tarp covered the ship and the buckles were secured just by Martin pointing his finger at them.

"That is wild! Levitation by pure thought transmitted and directed by your finger. I've read about instances of this," said Sam.

"Most likely with my coaching. It's the concentration with your poorly operated brains that you earthlings really have to get around." said Martin. "Let's head for the desert, Samuel."

We drove for hours out into Death Valley. It was really quite peaceful. The sky was very clear. You could see all the stars.

"Does the sky look like this on Mars?" I mused looking up.

"Well, it's a much more beautiful sight, since it's my home. The thinner atmosphere makes the

stars twice as bright, but you should see them from space!" he said.

"Boy, what wouldn't I give to see that." said Sam. "But my interests weren't in the space program."

"Believe me, Sam it is even more beautiful than this." said Al appearing through the Imaging Chamber door. "I did make it on two space shuttle flights before I worked with you on Project Star Bright."

The Martian levitated his ship off the trailer, set it on a level spot and opened up the hatch. He took off his coat and shined under the full moon.

"I am going to miss this place. It is almost like my home. Almost. Please tell Tim farewell for me. He has been like a nephew to me. He made my stay here more than bearable. Almost enjoyable." said the Martian.

"Sam, Tim knows." said Al.

"He knows now," said Sam.

"Thank you. Let me give you some advice. You're an awfully fine smart young man. Go home. This traveling through time only messes things up. Leave what was to the past. Tim and I learned this more than once. Go home and make a better future for yourself, your time, and your world. You're bright enough to help build fleets of remarkable spaceships. Live your dream and go into space. And if you ever make it to my planet, we might meet again." said the Martian with a smile.

"You live that long? Well, I can't go home. This is my life, my existence," said Sam reluctantly.

"Then, this is goodbye. Thank you, Samuel Beckett. Stand back." he said crawling into the little ship. It lifted straight up and then gained altitude barely making a sound. Sam could see it disappear among the stars."

"That should be it, Sam. So long. This was one weird leap. Martians! HOO BOY!" said Sam.

"At least he was heading home!" said Sam as blue light penetrated his every molecule and he leaped once again.


End file.
